Ruby in the Dark
by DarkAngel942
Summary: Ruby has escaped from her violent father when she meets a very dark and mysterious boy named Damon on the plane. He's gorgeous, but she couldn't give a damn. This only intrigues him more... is she a new love for Damon?
1. New Life

**I wrote this story when I was a lot younger- just before my granddad died. I just found this still lurking on my computer, and I thought I might as well share it with somebody.**

**So I'd like to dedicate this story to my granddad.**

**Enjoy though lol! :-D**

I sat down dully on the plane next to two very good-looking guys. I liked sitting here; the aisle seat was always my favorite seat on a plane because when I was younger, I was terrified of seeing the ground dissappear as we ascended into the air, and I now discovered I still am.

I could feel the gaze of the guy in the middle seat on my face and traveling down my body. This wasn't surprising, as I was wearing a black hooded top that highlighted my curves. The neck stopped to just above my bra, showing a little bit of cleavage. I may be sixteen, but I have a body that makes me look a lot older than what I actually am. I now think that wearing this top was a mistake as the majority of the passengers were men, and to think that I was going to be leered at on the flight in which I really needed to think was not exactly a comforting thought.

I ignored the gaze of the guy and focused on my thoughts. What on earth was I going to do when I get to Florence? I didn't know why I came to America in the first place, I felt like I just needed to get as far away from my dad as possible. But now that I've calmed down, and had time to think, I just count being on a different country from him is a blessing.

I decided Italy was the best country to go for, as I love Italy. I can speak the language fluently, as my granddad had been a great tutor. He was Italian, my granddad, and he always wanted me to know the language as he wanted someone to take an interest in their ancestry. My mother and my Gran couldn't be bothered to learn. My mother didn't because she was a teenage rebel who just didn't care, and my Gran because she's crap at learning even a few words of a different language.

I was young when my mother told me that granddad had passed away, and I remember crying more than anyone else at the funeral. But, granddad gone or not, I still proceeded in learning the language in his memory.

The plane took off soon after these thoughts had passed through my mind, and now I looked over the two boys to the window.

Seeing the ground so far away alerted me away from my thoughts a little bit and I immediately turned my head around. The boy next to me stopped looking at me and faced the front again, a smirk on his lips. From the position of the other boy; he was asleep. I turned back.

What on earth was I going to do when I got there? Maybe they would let me get a flat on my own? After all, I did look older than sixteen. Money wasn't a worry- I had stolen my dad's credit card details right before I left. I had it all planned out, I wasn't some stupid girl who didn't know what she was doing. I didn't run away from home- I _escaped_ from it. And it was going to be the best decision I had ever made.

My mother hadn't grown out of her rebellious phrase when I had been born, but I had still loved her very much and thought that her drinking was normal back then. Then, when I had just turned fourteen- I started looking for my dad, without my mother's help and permission. I eventually found him. He had used to be a gangster- and at first I was scared about having an ex-gangster as a father- but then he told me he would never hurt either me or my mum, and I believed him. After all, he was the only dad I had. My mother was rusty with him to start with- barely giving him a glance when he came by to pick me up for a father-daughter day out. But pretty soon she found herself falling back in love with him- and he moved back in after a month or two. Six months of family bliss passed by- but then the drinking started.

At first it was nothing weird- a beer or two every few nights. But then it became every night. And then it became more amounts every night. And then it became bottles of vodka a night. My mum asked him to stop- and he said he would get help. Everything turned vaguely back to normal- until my mother caught him sneaking whiskey out of the cupboard one night. I could hear them yelling from my room upstairs- and I cowered down into my blankets- somehow thinking if I could squirm deep enough into my bed, all the shouting would go away. But it didn't.

I could hear the slap- it was like a huge alarm clock going off in the morning: you want it to stop, but you can't make it stop without going to it. That was what it felt like. I had no way of knowing if my dad had slapped my mother or if my mother had slapped my dad. But then the next morning I saw a huge mark on my mother's face- and I immediately felt that my life was tearing apart. They started having arguments every night- and each morning after the argument, my mother would have an even bigger bruise on her face. Sometimes he hit her so hard that the bruises turned black and blue. It got to the point where my mother would stop arguing with him- and would instead stay silent. But then he got mad at the littlest things- like the TV remote, or his crisp packet being empty- and I could hear him beat her again.

You hear all the stories on talk shows about children in abusive families- and everyone watching goes 'awww, those poor kids,' and then get on with their daily lives. But you really have no idea unless you've experienced it. It's like you're trapped- but you can't escape without the key. And I had no key. At one point I thought my mother was- but then I would see her cower away from my dad and shoot him anxious looks, and I knew she never could be my key.

Dad thought that I couldn't hear them- but how could I not? My dad's shouting was so loud, and this was only made worse by his punches to my mother. I used to think that 'home' meant safety- like when you had an argument with a friend at school and you ran home crying to your mother's loving arms. That was home. Now when I had an argument at school- and they were becoming more and more frequent by my silence to my friends- I had no home to run to. No mother to hold me. No mother to tell me everything was going to be okay.

Me and my mother didn't speak much, and at first I thought it was because she was embarrassed: she knew I knew. But then one night I heard my dad shouting about me, warning her again not to tell me- and I immediately knew that he was purposefully trying to stop my mother talking to me. He was obviously scared that I would be afraid of him.

But I already was.

I didn't believe that he loved my mother and me. In fact, I just didn't believe in love anymore. I couldn't imagine my dad giving me cuddles anymore- somehow the thought of him touching me made me sick.

And there was no escape.

I hated being ill, as that meant a day off school- and that meant staying home with my mother and dad, and _that _meant listening to more fights. My family didn't need to work- my dad's family were rich. School was the only place I could escape to- where I could at least _try_ and be myself- but most of the time my attempts were in vain. No matter how much I tried- I just wasn't the same person anymore. I couldn't giggle with my girlfriends about hot boys, and I even couldn't worry about exams because I was already worrying about the stuff at home.

Some life for a fourteen year old girl. My life was already ruined by the people who created me.

My mother couldn't take it anymore- and one day she just packed her bags and left. She didn't tell anyone- but she left a note under my pillow so that my dad wouldn't find it:

_My beautiful baby,_

_I'm so sorry! I'll return for you one day, when I'm ready. Stay strong, hopefully he won't hurt you- hopefully I'll be back before he does. _

_You're stronger than me, Ruby- you always have been. _

_Love mum xxx_

I had cried myself to sleep that night. My mother had left me- the last person in my life that I loved and I thought could help me.

But then the next morning came and I couldn't seem to bring myself to be sad about my mother- she had left me? On my own, with this evil man? I could only feel anger. She was my mother, she was meant to put my life before hers and always protect me. I know that sounds real weird for me to say that she was supposed to put me before her- but that was what mother's do, isn't it?

My dad found out that she had left, and he was just angry. I heard him break lots of glass in the kitchen- but I suppose I was glad that he was breaking the glass and not me. I didn't show him the letter.

Soon I wasn't angry at my mother anymore- I didn't have the strength to be: I just felt tired. Tired of my life that had been turned so violent in the past year.

I read my mother's letter over and over so much that the corners started to wear out. I tried to decipher any hidden message that she might have put in it- like a secret meeting place. I took the first letter of each word and put them altogether. But there was nothing. And she had been wrong in the letter anyway: my dad hit me for the first time the day after she left. And she hadn't been there.

I had just come home from school. Dad was drunk. Punched me so hard I fell to the floor.

That was all there was to say.

The beatings didn't stop. I became the new punch bag- replacing my mother.

And then, two weeks before my sixteenth birthday, I hatched a plan to fleece him. I stole his account details- and snatched his credit card. I managed to hack into any security on the computers- that was my talent, hacking. Some people call it stealing- but I call it _revenge_.

And so here I was- exactly on my sixteenth birthday- flying away from my dad. My plan had worked perfectly. Nobody had asked me my name or age- apart from the passport checker people, but that was normal. My bags were packed and already in the plane. I was well fed and watered.

Oh, and a hot guy was staring at me.

But I wasn't too interested by the hot guy. I had decided to hate men- which isn't that surprising when you think about it.

They hot guy was looking forward, but was edging towards me. And that's when I felt it: the urge.

It was as if some kind of Power was urging me to go somewhere with this guy- and he was already reaching for his seatbelt, sure that I would follow him. It was so clear, the Urge, and it was almost irresistible. What the fuck was it?

Almost.

After all that I had been through with my dad, I wasn't in the mood to be hit on and taken somewhere by a strange guy. So I gathered all my mind and _pushed_ back against the Power- hard.

The guy next to me winced, and I looked at him. He had a shocked expression on his face, but when my eyes met his, he smiled.

_Fuck_, he was gorgeous! Black eyes, sexy mouth, gorgeous lips...

But gorgeous or not, I was _pissed_ at him.

"I'm Damon," he said, still smiling. It wasn't a nice smile either- it was a sort of arrogant You'll- Fall- For- Me smile.

What a _dickhead._

I realized that I was glaring at him, but this only made him smile more. And he was waiting for an answer- but I was too pissed at him to give him my name back. So I just said;

"Good for you."

Then he laughed.

That wasn't even funny, I thought angrily.


	2. Damon

**Sorry I took so long with this chapter, my exams start next week and I had tons of revision to do. But anyway, enjoy! And please review!!**

I never used to be too interested in boys, but since I had my fifteenth birthday they've had a special hold over me- as I have them. It started on my fifteenth birthday, I wore a short but casual dress to school, and for the first time they looked me up and down, wide-eyed. They had started to notice my curves and my puppy-fat-no-more face. I was attracted to them, and this caused me to have a few adventurous relationships. All ended of course when my dad found out and threatened to kill them- this was just before he first hit my mom. That wasn't normal protective dad behavior, and it scared them all off. Now I thought of myself as an orphan, and I didn't know if I should be alarmed or upset by the fact that I enjoyed thinking of myself as an orphan. There was no dad or mom to stop me from doing whatever I wanted with boys or even life anymore. I could do what I want. I could fall in love without the threat of my dad looming over us- I could snog any boy whenever I wanted...

But I was pissed at this guy.

I didn't say anything to him- just glared. This only made him smile even more. Then when he had enough of the glaring- he asked:

"What's your name?"

I glared at him, annoyed. Should I tell him? Or tell him to stick it up where the sun doesn't shine? But then I thought 'what the hell'. I wasn't gonna let my dad ruin the rest of my life, and ruin my attraction to boys. I was alone for the first time in my life- and I was gonna have _fun_.

"Ruby," I answered, narrowing my eyes at him.

I know, it's weird. This guy had some sort of voodoo thingie about him, and now I was telling him my name? But strangely I wasn't scared. That was _really_ weird. I started to wonder if I was going insane. It wouldn't be a shocker, after all I had been abused for two years by my alcoholic father who probably right at that moment was trying to track me down. The guy sitting next to me had some sort of crazy power that he could do- but I wasn't scared of him. Nobody could be as scary as my father to me.

"Ruby," he repeated, looking thoughtfully at me. "That's a beautiful name."

He looked deep into my eyes again and edged even closer to me.

Cue the Urge once again. Right, that's it no more- I thought, pissed. No more controlling! I pushed back at it with my mind. The guy winced again.

"Will you stop doing that?! It's getting really annoying!" I snapped at him, absolutely furious.

The guy's lips twitched- and my eyes were once again drawn to how gorgeous they were. But then I came to my senses and carried on with my furious state. He may be smirking a little, but his eyes were cold.

"Stop what, beautiful?"

That really annoyed me. Not only was he being creepy, he also had the nerve to get cocky too.

"That mind thing you're doing! If you don't stop, I'm going to call the...air...hostess."

Before I'd even finished my voice had trailed off, realizing just how ridiculous the threat sounded.

I looked at the guy, whose mouth was obviously fighting a laugh.

"That's a pretty crap threat isn't it?" I said, my lips starting to curve into a smile despite myself.

He laughed, showing perfect pearl-white teeth. God, he had a gorgeous laugh. He was a gorgeous guy though, it made sense for him to have a gorgeous laugh too. He wasn't controlling me anymore, at least not at the moment, so I decided to talk to him for a while. It couldn't hurt, could it? It's fair to say that I was captivated by his beauty, or perhaps a victim of it would be a better description.

It's not like I'll see him again after the flight, I told myself. And anyway, how many times am I going to meet someone like this? I've always believed in witchy or any phsycic stuff I've heard, so I wasn't as creeped out as I should have been. Just yesterday I had made a promise to myself to not let what my dad did to me wreck my entire life. I should have fun.

This was fun.

"You're English?" he asked, surprised.

"Oh well done," I rolled my eyes at him.

"I've been to England before, but you don't have the posh English accent I grew accustomed to. I'm disappointed." He didn't look disappointed, he looked very amused.

"I've always hated those kids with that accent, though I don't think it entirely justified what we did to them."

"And what did you do to them?" he questioned, raising his eyebrows.

"Threw stones at them," I grinned, remembering the times.

He laughed again.

"Sounds like fun."

"It was."

"How old are you?"

I narrowed my eyes at the unexpected, unwelcome question.

"Why?" I asked, cagey of him.

"Just wondering," he shrugged.

"Sixteen," I reluctantly told him, but then I realized it didn't matter if he knew my first name and age: nobody would be able to track me down just by those small pieces of information.

"Really? You running away from home or something?"

Before I could reply he added, "Or an abusive boyfriend who just won't keep his dirty hands to himself?"

He smiled again, but I could see in his eyes that he was interested in my answers. Too interested for my liking.

What should I tell him? He had no idea how close to the mark he really was. But he was wrong. I was sixteen, legal- in my country anyway- to go anywhere I wanted. And if I went to a country where you had to be older, I would just lie about my age- I would get away with it. And clubs didn't matter to me. Not now. I wasn't running away from home, I was building a new life for myself away from home. That wasn't running, was it? Kids run away from home when they have an argument with their parents or thought nobody loved them- I, however had it all planned out since I was fifteen. I had planned this- and I wasn't going to let anyone wreck it for me.


	3. Urge

**I'll remove the author note later, cause if I removed it now and replaced it with this chapter then you might think that it isnt a new chapter! But here you go, enjoy! And I'm SO sorry for the long wait, you have no idea how sorry I am! **

**But there's gonna be a sequel to this story, you'll be pleased to know! And you know what? Like this story, I starting writing it years ago! Keep with this story though, cause you'll LOVE the sequel if you like this!**

"Not exactly," I answered, not smiling back. Wonderful answer, Ruby. Just friggin' _wonderful._

"Oh really?" His eyes widened.

I didn't say anything, but I looked at him even more fiercely.

"How old are _you_?" I asked, almost desperate now to get the subject off of me and directed elsewhere,

Damon grinned. But this grin, I noticed, looked like a wolf's grin- which was very creepy.

The grin turned secretive, and his black eyes showed this secrecy and something else...humor?

"Older than you."

"I've noticed."

He grinned his wolf grin at me again- and I began to get fed up of him looking like he wanted to eat me on a plate with a side of vegetables, so I changed the subject again. Ha, royal subject switcher today, aren't you Ruby?- I thought grimly to myself. Would it always be like this? Would I be forever condemned to switching the subject constantly whenever things got too close to the truth for my liking?

I looked past him, over to the other boy.

"Is he with you?" I asked Damon, nodding over to the sleeping boy.

"Yes, he's my brother." He didn't even avert his eyes from me.

"He looks cold."

"He can hear us, you know," Damon grinned at me.

"I don't think he can, he's asleep," I smirked back, childishly triumphant of showing him up. I hated arrogant boys, and this boy was about as arrogant as they can get. Plus he was hot, and he knew it- which of course added to the effect.

Now Damon finally looked over at his brother. The boy did look cold- probably due to the fact that airplane was getting cooler and cooler as it ascended in the air. His cheek was pressed against the edge of the window, his breath making it go slightly foggy.

"Oh," Damon said. "I didn't notice."

"Of course you didn't, you were too busy perving on me," I nearly snarled at him.

He turned back to me, a mock-hurt expression on his face.

"But you, my love, are too beautiful to ignore. And I was not perving. I was merely curious."

I scowled a little at him, a slight smile forming on my lips.

"Curious is when you look longer than you're supposed to. _You _were _leering_ at me like a cat with a bowl of cream," I somehow managed to resist the urge to point my finger at him. I have no idea how I managed to resist- I may have been through a lot, but I still had my teen childishness. To be honest, I don't think my _baby_ childishness had fully faded yet...oh well.

He laughed. God, that laugh was driving me crazy.

"For a sixteen year old you seem to be quite mature."

"I've learned it tough."

"Oh really?" He looked surprised- and was there something else in there? I couldn't make it out. "And what, in your opinion, is the world really like?"

Every little bit of smile was wiped from my face.

For some people, the world was wonderful, as they're the people who get their own way in life all the time. But I'm not like them- the world is cruel, as are most of the people in it.

"Horrible most of the time," I said to his ultimate surprise.

He stared at me for a long time, probably trying to figure out what had prompted a sixteen year old girl- who should be hooked on partying, fun, and boys- to say such a thing.

"What do you think of the world?" I asked him, trying to change the subject.

He blinked in surprise, and didn't answer as he collected himself up again from trying to figure me out. To be honest, he looks very dangerous- and I don't know why, but there's something in him that makes me want to run.

But if he thinks I am, he can shove himself up somewhere where the sun doesn't shine. I'm changing my life here, and not running away anymore.

"Fun," Damon said, smirking. Then he looked at me more closely, his dark midnight eyes serious.

After a few moments I grew uncomfortable, but that's when I felt a very, _very_ strong Urge. But this Urge wasn't like the others- it was _much_ stronger. And this Urge, believe it or not, was telling me to _kiss_ him. It was making me want to incline my body toward him, not caring that I had started talking to this guy like, twenty seconds ago?

I was shocked. Never in my life had my mind been manipulated like this. My dad's twisted mind control had been a lot less advanced than this. No fucking way was any man gonna control me again!

I pushed against the Urge, but then I started feeling something else pushing in there too. Probing my mind- and then I realized what it was looking for: answers. It wanted to find out about me.

Well damn hell if I was going to let it.

I _knew_ that this Damon guy was doing it, I just _knew_. I didn't know why, but I _knew_ it was him. I grew so angry, not to mention freaked out, and I knew that he could feel it, because he pulled out of my mind.

"Quit doing that, idiot, I'm not your rag doll!" I snarled at him. Being controlled and told what to do was not my thing. I didn't cope well with it.

Like my dad now knew.


	4. Family Love

Damon stared at me for a moment, angry at being spoken to like that. He looked so mad, I nearly flinched. Obviously no-one had put him in his place before so crudely. Something about him looks intensely terrifying as I looked at him- it was as if something inside him wanted to come out.

Okaaaaaay- this is _definitely_ the most creepy plane ride I've ever had.

I looked around for another place to sit, _away_ from this insane guy, but there was none available. Damn- I thought angrily: he's got me stuck and he knows it.

"My beauty, I have done nothing. Have you thought that it may be yourself causing such alarm?"

I glared furiously at him. He only smirked back, amused at my reaction- but his eyes were as cold as winter. Really, why are men so thick?! Can't they take a hint?!

But not all men do that Urge thing...and to tell the truth, I was starting to get a little scared by what _else_ this Damon guy could do. The way he looked at me before indicated that he was not a happy bunny, and all my senses were begging me to get away from him. But I didn't run away. Instead, I sat back in my chair, and ignored him.

You probably know why that didn't work.

"So, where were we, my beauty?" his smooth voice said, and I immediately feel the reflex to punch him. Well, it's a reflex for me...

I tried my best to keep my mouth shut, but everything in me wanted to get up and scream at him. But as that would get me kicked off the flight, I would just have to bear it for around... fourteen hours. Yeah, you heard me, _fourteen hours_ with a crazy hot guy.

Any chance something might knock me unconscious for the rest of the flight? Er, no.

His laugh contained full humor, and since his mouth was next to my ear, his breath tickled my skin. I tried my best to ignore him, but it's hard: I wanted to punch him more than I wanted to get away from my father.

"I believe, we were talking of the world. But that subject seems to have lost its taste now, don't you think? Let's concentrate on something happier... such as, what calls you to Florence?"

_Nothing, I just fancy going there because my father wants to kill me if he finds me. Oh, and I stole all his money._

Ha, if I told him that maybe it would make the poker shoot out of his ass.

"Nothing," I say simply. I had been going to say 'for a holiday, hopefully I won't see you around,' but that would've ruined the rest of my flight. Happy thoughts, Ruby, happy thoughts- I nearly giggled to myself at the thought of telling Damon where to stick it.

"Really? I would've expected your parents to kick up a fuss for your going to Florence for 'nothing?" Damon said, that arrogant smirk plastered on his face.

"They don't care." Well, that wasn't exactly a lie, was it? They _didn't_ care.

"Hmm," Damon said, eyeing me suspiciously.

The guy next to him stirred, knocking the pull-down table in front of him slightly. My eyes darted to him, the back to Damon. I didn't like keeping my eyes of him; he seemed creepy, and I've always watched creepy people carefully. His black eyes followed my every move, and pretty soon I got tired of nobody talking- and just as I'm about to start another conversation- he speaks first.

"So, what would make your parents not care about your being in a different country?" Damon's voice is smooth, but I can detect a slight cold suspicion underneath.

Why won't he mind his own business?

"They're not nice people," I say coldly in a tone that indicates that the conversation is closed.

But he still wouldn't give up.

"Ah, the usual teenage drama?" his entire face is amused: eyes, mouth, even _nose_.

At that point I grew really angry. How dare he assume anything about me? And how dare he assume that it was teenage troubles?! After all I'd been through: the horror, the beatings, the _horrid_ mind-control my dad had used on me- to have it called something as normal as _teenage troubles_ made me want to puke. My mother and I had never gotten on well either, and what made me sad more than anything was the fact that I've never known what it's like to have a real parent. A real mother who baked cookies instead of drinking and having sex: although she had grown out of her rebellious stage, those things had still remained even though she'd loved me. I had loved her so much, and she ran out on me.

That's family love for you.

"More than that, now mind your own business," I said furiously to the guy and turned around to face the other way.

I could feel his anger at being spoken to like that, and for a second I was scared that he would hurt me, like my dad had done whenever he got angry, but no hit came. I could even feel his breath on my hair, making a few strands blow softly. My eyes just watched the tiny TV screen of the guy in the other aisle, trying my best to stop from looking at Damon- who was undoubtedly glaring at me.

After about a minute, I felt a quick swoosh of air on my hair, and I couldn't help but turn round sharply to look. Because of ignoring him, his beauty stunned me once again, making me take in the darkness of his eyes and hair more shockingly. His eyes were still cold, but there was something like... respect hidden in them? But before I could really take a look at him, the look was gone from his eyes and just left with coldness- except his mouth was curved in an amused smile.

"I'm sorry, this flight is increasingly boring," he said, still smirking, but sounding genuine. I couldn't tell if he was being sincere or not.

"Yeah, but you don't need to sound like a stalker to amuse yourself," I say, narrowing my eyes in suspicion.

"Let's start over. I'm Damon Salvatore. And you are...?" he gestured for me to input my name.

"Ruby Barioni," I said, giving him my real name. Nobody would be able to find me now I was halfway across the Atlantic, and my dad and I didn't have th same name anyway since my parents were never married.

"Barioni? I thought you were from England?" his eyebrows rise in surprise.

"My granddad was Italian, the name got passed down," I explain.

**Sorry for the HUGE delay! Barioni's my Italian family name, it's sounds a bit weird though :-D Sounds like you're saying barrel :-S**

**Next chapter coming up sooner than this one did. Sorry for the delay again! :-S**


	5. Karma

"Popular name," he said, eyes never leaving mine. To be honest, he was creeping me out with his continuous staring. The dark eyes followed me in every move I made, even when I looked the other way and sat up straighter- feeling awkward at his staring.

The creep was totally, er... creepy. Not only could he influence minds, but he had the ability of making you want to throw yourself out of a window. I was scared of the guy, but not as scared as I was about my father. I know, I know, a creepy stalker guy who tries to influence you through an entire flight to Italy over your own father? But trust me, my dad was far worse. Just the sight of his eyes was enough to make me shudder in fear. My entire life felt plagued my my father, and although he scared me... holy_ shit_ this guy was _annoying_.

"Any brothers or sisters?" his irritating voice came from my left. God, I hated this guy!

"Look, is that any of your business?" I snapped, sharply looking at him again. How was I going to manage seven more hours of _this_? Was there some sort of pill that I could take to zonk me out for a couple hours? Maybe by then I would be fortunate enough for him to have become obsessed with a cheese wrapper instead of me. But no, I couldn't think of a pill that could do that- except for a sleeping pill, but I didn't have any of them. Other than banging my head on the seat in front of me until I was unconscious, there was no way to relieve myself of his presence.

Damon narrowed his eyes again, a small smile twitching on his mouth, eyes cold. He was _very_ unnerving, and scary in that moment. His entire body lounged in a new position, graceful like a cat, and I would be a fool to say I wasn't scared. But I was scared of something unknown- what the hell was wrong with this guy?

"You're a strange girl," he said smoothly, smirking into my eyes with his now.

"And you're a pig, but I don't voice it," I snapped back. Damon's eyebrows were raised now, looking at me with an irritating amused expression.

"Am I now?" his voice was silky and amused, but I detected the coldness in his eyes and expression. His head tilted forward ever so slightly with his eyes narrowing, scaring me slightly.

Screw him. Creepy mind... mind... mind person! Great, my insults are just _great_.

I turned away from him huffilly, looking toward the front and resting my head against my hand to get away from him. This guy was _insanely _creepy, and it just happened to be _me_ he's sitting next to. My first day of freedom, and I have to try and enjoy it while this annoying bastard of a guy is trying to get me to go to the bathroom with him. Why me?

Oh no wait, I knew that: my punishment from Karma. For so long I've been _dreaming_ about this moment, so it's only right that I get punished for thinking that I could actually be _happy_ for once- at least Karma seemed to think so.

I didn't believe in God- why should I? All he'd ever done for me and other kids _like_ me was stick them with an abusive family and leave them to fend for themselves. How could that be an act of love? Nobody loved me, apart from some loyal friends back home and my cousin, so why should I believe that some guy up in the clouds did?

His chuckle didn't exactly lighten my spirits, as you can probably guess. The only thing that could lighten my spirits was if a window opened and he got sucked outside with the wind. Oh great, my dad's turned my mind into violent thoughts. _I'm not gonna do what you say anymore Dad..._

"So where are you going in Italy?"

Oh for Christ's sake.

"Places," I replied shortly, feeling strangely proud of myself for not saying where I'm actually going.

"Places like where?"

Is he planning on stalking me, or something?

**I know this chapter is so short, but this plane drama seems to be dragging a bit! That's why I don't update so regularly, writer's blocks, which is also why this chapter is shorter and crappier than the rest. Anyway the next chapter will be up very soon, possibly tonight =-) Thanks for all the reviews and please keep them coming!**

**Oh and about the God thing, of course I don't mean any offense to anyone who does believe in God. I figured that Ruby wouldn't believe in God because of the way her father has treated her.**


	6. Italiano

I have no idea how I got through the rest of the flight.

But I was extremely glad that it was over, and I wouldn't have an annoying gorgeous guy to disrupt my new life. I hadn't told him where I was going in Italy, so there was no way he could find me. He was scary, with his mind control thing, and to be honest I think I was so calm about it because I was still in shock from leaving my abusive life behind. If I had been in a proper state of mind, used to the feelings of freedom that had been flowing through my body like water, I would have probably cowered away in fear. And trust me, as soon as I got to my new home in Italy I had a good period of fear for what happened on the plane.

As soon as the plane landed, I got off as soon as I could. Damon was smirking like there was no tomorrow, and it wasn't a nice smirk either. His eyes had been cold and angry, probably because I had been giving him the cold shoulder for hours on end. As I had looked back at him while the stewards opened the doors, I almost shot him the finger- but there was an old lady in front of me and I didn't want to alarm her.

I suppose you're wondering where I was going to live in Italy. Well, when I had started putting my plans into action I called up my Italian cousin, Isabella, in Florence. Our granddad had always pushed us together when we were kids, wanting us to be friends and get used to each other's countries which my granddad loved, and his wish was granted. We had been close friends when we were young- you know, as some cousins usually are, except closer. I hadn't spoken to her for about a year the day I called her, but I had a good reason for that- my dad, of course. Why am I still referring to him as my dad? He was just a sperm donor, and that's all he'd ever actually been I guess.

See what just happened? _Everything_ turns back to _him_: because everything is _his _fault. He's the reason why I can barely trust anyone, and why I have to leave the country that I was born into and loved. My oldest friends would no longer have me to go to college with, something that, when we were young, we looked forward to the most.

Anyway, Isabella. I'd called her up, after school one day when the sperm donor was passed out drunk on the sofa, and she'd been so glad to hear from me. I'd had to tell her about the abuse, of course, otherwise she'd have never understood why I was making plans to leave home when I was _fifteen._ At first she'd argued with me, begging me to go to the police, and for a while I contemplated what would happen if I told them what was happening. But I'd realized, what would be the point? The sperm donor would have wriggled out of it somehow, and then he would kill me for confessing.

So in the end, I convinced her that it would be best for me to leave straight when I was legally allowed. I'm British, which meant that I could move out when I was sixteen and live somewhere else. Isabella, or 'Izzy' as I liked to call her, inherited our granddad's flat in Florence when he died. It wasn't as if I got nothing either- our granddad gave me ten thousand pounds in his will, to be held in trust until I turned eighteen. Yeah, he was quite the rich man.

My mum never got a penny through his will, as he must have known that she'd blow it all on expensive clothes and perfumes instead of meaningful stuff, like my university fees. Although I'm a little disappointed that I can't use the money to live in Italy now, I'm seriously glad that it's being held in trust- so even my dad can't get to it. It's held securely by the government, safe from his hands- and mine, I guess- until I turn eighteen. Izzy was living in the flat by herself when I called- she's a few years older than me- and when I explained what I was going through, crying down the phone, she immediately told me to come and live with her.

To be quite honest, I'm not sure if my dad will even try and find me. If he called the police, he'd end up having to tell them that he abused me. And they'd find my blood on the floor of my room- yeah, I'm such a cheery person.

In the arrivals lounge, my eyes scanned the entire place for Izzy, bag in hand. When I spotted her, I nearly jumped in joy- although I knew that Damon was probably watching me from behind, it didn't mull my excitement much.

Izzy looked much different to the way that I'd remembered her. For starters, she was taller, and had lost all of the puppy fat she had carried when we were younger. During my reasonably happy years, she'd had dimples that were the cutest you'd ever seen, long dark brown hair that she'd refused to get cut, and big green eyes the shape of almonds. Since she'd lived in Italy all her life, her skin was the gorgeous color of tan. Oh yeah, I haven't fully explained yet, have I? My granddad had had a child _before_ he met my grandma, my mum's half-brother. I'd met him a few times when I was little, but he lost touch after a while. Izzy's his daughter. So I guess we're like, half-cousins? Is that even a thing?

But still, I was terribly excited when I glimpsed Izzy's dark head amongst the crowd.

She screeched in joy when she saw me, alarming some old people with horrid Hawaiian shirts on- did they think they looked attractive, or what?- and she ran over to me, her long brown curls tousling around her back.

We hugged tightly, squealing into each others hair. I couldn't believe that I was _finally_ here- after years of suffering, and here I am! The sun shining outside the glass windows of Florence Airport, my favourite cousin hugging me, and a new life ahead of me. It's unbelievable that just a week ago my dad was beating me in a drunken rage, and my entire existence was plagued by horrid thoughts of his twisted, angry face. At that point, I would have never imagined that I could be so happy!

"Oh my god, you look so different!" Izzy exclaimed in Italian, pulling back and looking me over. "And your hair is so gorgeous," she continued flicking it with her fingers. When I was younger I used to have fluffy blonde curls, but somehow they'd turned straight over my years.

Totally ignorant of Damon now, I looked her up and down in return.

"So do you! It's been so long, Izzy," I reply back in Italian. She can speak English, but I wanted to speak Italian. That's the joy of learning the language of another country- you can understand what they're saying and you can live peacefully.

"Come on," she squealed, taking my bag from me and linking an arm through mine. As we exited through the main front door, excited Italian people bustling around us, I looked round to see if Damon was anywhere near. Like I said, by this point I was still in shock- not realizing exactly what danger Damon was. Right then he was just a creepy bastard with astonishingly good looks. Hot boy or not, he was scary. When sitting next to him, something in my blood told me to run as fast as I can away from him. But then I just thought it was because of the sperm donor that I was feeling like that around him.

He was standing in the middle of the room, next to the arrival gates, with his pained-looking brother. Well, he looked nicer than_ Damon_. Both of them were stunningly gorgeous, but sitting next to Damon for hours on end made me realize how scary he was. Oh, and also how high a bar he put on other men relationship-wise.

His eyes met mine and a slow, menacing smile grew on his mouth. His eyes were cold and narrowed, watching me as Izzy walked us out of the airport.

This time, I _did_ flick him the finger. And I felt pretty darn good about it.

**Please review! =-) Huge thankies to all who have. Please also ask if you have any questions about Ruby's family so far- after reading it over I found some of it might be quite hard to understand. Xx**


	7. Different Worlds

Izzy and I talked non-stop in the car, in Italian of course. She asked me concerned questions about 'the sperm donor', and how he would react when he found out that I was gone. By now, he'd already know- and I was in a different country, how wonderful is that?

There's no words for me to explain how amazing I felt while looking out of the window of Izzy's car- even if I swallowed a dictionary nothing would be enough. My life was just beginning!

"What about your mother?" she asked, glancing at me inquiringly before turning back to the road.

I looked out the window, my jaw setting tightly.

"She left a few years ago," I say, looking out of the window and trying my best to focus on something else.

I barely noticed that Izzy parked the car on the pavement for a moment. I looked at her in confusion, and noticed her shocked expression.

"She... left?"

"Yeah, she left," I repeated, my jaw setting again as I stared ahead.

"I never thought she'd do something like that. Ruby, I'm so sorry," Izzy's voice was so sympathetic it made my heart burn. My mother was gone to me, never coming back. She didn't even care enough to stay when things were tough- what kind of a mum would do that? I had no idea where she was, and to be very honest with myself, it pained me slightly. Even when 'the sperm donor' wasn't in our lives, she had been a useless mother- but she was the only one I had.

And I'll never see her again- all because of her stupid fear.

"When did she leave?"

"A few years ago. She left a note, but what good did it do?" I snorted, turning back to look at Iz and managing a small grim smile.

Her face was a mixture of shock and sympathy, the car engine still running obliviously to her.

"I can't believe she would do something like that, and she knew what your 'dad'," she used air-quotes, which made me smile a smidgen, "would do to you," she said, a now horrified expression moving over her face. "What did she say in the letter? Exactly?" Izzy leaned her face closer to me with sympathy and curiosity.

"She said that I was stronger than her, which is evidently true in a way, and that she would come back when she's ready. I thought she'd grown out of her rebellious phase when I was born, but looking back I was wrong. The drinking was there, and the selfishness. Honestly, I was so angry at her. When she's ready, she'll do something about her only child being beaten and killed by her father- what kind of mother, what kind of person, would do that? She said that she hoped he wouldn't hurt me before she gets back, but she knew that he would, she knew it. That's maybe why she left. You know what? She's weak and horrid person, not even worth talking about," I rambled, crossing my arms and looking out of the window sternly, scowling at a pigeon.

Stupid pigeon. I bet he doesn't have to worry about abusive fathers and abandoning mothers. The only thing on his mind is about which person to poop on next, and maybe finding a woman to pleasure his sexual needs.

My stern and angry expression doesn't stop Izzy touching my arm comfortingly before turning the car key and starting the ignition again. She knows me too damn well- anybody else would have gone in a huff with me, but Izzy always seems to know how I'm feeling.

Damn her.

We sped along, the car whirling past gorgeous sandy-looking buildings. You don't get this in England. There's not much beautiful weather and flowery sceneries- well there are, but none that I've come across. Back home, my life had been so horrid that the scenery around my hometown was the same- plain and grey. It was as if the weather knew about the constant abuse.

But this was Italy- a place where the sun is always shining and gorgeous flowers everywhere you looked. Friendly market stall workers were selling homemade Italian breads and cheeses to customers, children laughing and playing on their bikes.

Instead of talking about my depressing life, I asked Izzy about hers. While we sped through streets of cafes, she told me about her job as a waitress in the cafe close to her apartment- Cafe Rosa. It was apparently a great place to work, and she encouraged me to drop in and keep her company every now and then. I had had to work when living with 'the sperm donor', a job in the middle of town to pay for food and things. He bought his own food with his money- his inheritance from a rich dead relative- and so I was forced to earn my own. I couldn't exactly have asked for it, could I? The bastard would have killed me.

Passing over the gorgeous Ponte Santa Trinita, I kept thinking about how I could leave all what happened behind now. From that moment on, I would try my ultimate best to forget about my dad- and be a teenager for once.

"We're here!" Izzy interrupted my thoughts with a dazzling smile. My head turned away from the window which I was staring out of and watched as Izzy turned the car into a wonderful, gorgeous looking street.

I was going to live... here?

Fuck!

Via de' Tornabuoni looked like one of the streets in New York- beautifully even grey-sandy bricks towering up to make posh flats and shops. Only the fanciest fashion boutiques were on the street, along with beautiful street lanterns glowing the color of warm sunshine. The buildings were evidently old, but they had an elegance about them that no modern building could ever beat. From what my granddad told me about the history of street, it contained some of the most beautiful buildings in Italy and- fuck, there's some hot boys here!

Izzy drove into some sort of car park that still managed to look posh despite the pigeons there. I thought I would escape the pigeons, but no. Maybe some of them followed me? Great, I have pigeon stalkers.

"What do you think?" Izzy asked happily, undoing her seat belt with a click.

"Granddad left us a flat in this place?" I asked, wide eyed, sitting forward. I knew my granddad was rich, but now I know he was filthy rich! I get why he didn't want to give my mother this place- she would have sold it and not appreciated it's full beauty and grace. The money would have been blown on expensive designer clothes and alcohol. In that moment while looking at Izzy with disbelieving eyes, I felt a rush of pride knowing that my granddad trusted Izzy and I with so many family treasures.

Tears came into my eyes. I hated crying in front of people, but my granddad always sparked a loving side in me. He'd taught me how to ride a bike, have I mentioned that? Yeah, my mother was too busy drinking vodka to teach me. But he hadn't made me feel like I was a burden, as if he was forced to teach me- his kind smile and encouraging eyes gave me my first triumph at the age of four.

Remembering that time was tough. And it seemed like Izzy knew exactly what was on my mind, as she patted my hand, a teary smile on her face.

Was she a mind-reader or something? I'd have to ask her.

"I know. I miss him too," she leans over and hugs me tight, something that must've been awkward for her considering her stomach was against the brakes.

I pull back and laugh, feeling strange at having someone to cry with about my granddad- I was so used to crying alone after the funeral.

"Enough sobbing. New life, now. Want to see the flat, and your room?" Izzy squealed, smiling widely and opening the car door to climb out. I could see the spring in her step, and I laugh at her excitement before jumping out too.

I love the Italian weather, it's gorgeous. It rains, but definitely not as much as Britain. In England you can't go out in a T-Shirt a lot, which annoys me as I love the heat. Oh, and I love tanning. Except I could never tan anyway because of the bruises that he caused me and I had to cover up.

Izzy grabs my hand, both of us giggling in excitement, and leads me to a swivel door near the car park. Sounds from the street are faint, mostly due to the stone blocking everything. Gold bars are on the swivel door- you know, the sort you get at five-star hotels- and the doorway is made of complete marble. You would think that the marble and stone wouldn't go together, but somehow they did. The building looked modern, yet gorgeous in its age.

The swivel door reveals a carpeted floor, evidently made from the finest materials, and the beginning of a posh rounded marble staircase. Instead of walking gracefully, like was probably expected for this place, we decided to not give a crap and ran up the stairs like giggling five year olds.

Oh god, my room was gonna be amazing, isn't it? From my old, tatty room in England to something like this!

Our apartment was apparently on the first floor, as Izzy pulled a key out of her pocket while running, thrusting it in the lock and turning swiftly.

The door pushed open and I was left standing in the doorway with an open mouth.

It made me feel like the Queen! The living room was plush and modern. Gold covered parts of the sofa edges, but even then they managed to look modern. A huge TV was in the center if the room, where all the furniture was pointing at. The kitchen was to the right as soon I as I walked into the room, but it was a huge kitchen. The room itself was huge. Marble was on all of the surfaces, the finest of silver kitchen utensils covering them. The poshest stuff. This place was fit for a princess.

Or rather, two princesses- myself and Izzy.

"Can you believe it? When I moved in I nearly fainted: I knew it would be posh but not this posh! Wait till you see your room!" Izzy jumped up and down, twirling in a circle and clapping her hands in excitement with a huge smile on her face. I just gaped at her, still in shock.

"Come on!" she grabbed my hand and- I really don't know how she did it, I was stuck to the spot- dragged me past everything toward a door. Another door was next to it, facing the gorgeous living room and kitchen, but Izzy went into the one on the left. The place was so huge, however, that it felt as if we'd walked miles just to get there.

I gasped when she opened that door.

My bedroom was modern and stunningly beautiful, fit for a celebrity like Britney Spears. A few walls were covered with modern and warm looking colors, and the wall facing us was painted a warm golden: my favorite colors. But how had Izzy known?

My unspoken question was answered a second later, when Izzy opened her mouth after beaming around the room.

"In his will, when I found out I got this place, he said that he'd decorated it for you in your favorite colors. He must've known that you'd come here. And he ordered me not to change a thing- so I've just left it alone."

Tears come to my eyes again at the thoughts of my wonderful granddad- he had known me so well. I quickly swallow down the tears and lean on Izzy's shoulder. I laugh in shock when I see the bed, putting a hand to my mouth.

"The bed-" I begin, but can't finish. It's beautiful, no other way to describe it. It's made from black-painted iron, bended into a flowers in the frame at the foot of the bed. The frame at the top is the same, apart from slightly higher. Dark brown flowers are on a golden brown duvet, swirling around in a calm fusion.

"It's gorgeous," I say, and Izzy rests her head against mine.

"I know. Makes you miss him, doesn't it," she sighs sadly.

Definitely a mind-reader.

**Longest chapter I've done since Chapter 1, yay! =-) I'll update soon, possibly tomorrow! And don't worry, Damon will be returning real soon. Please review! Xx**


	8. Wine Time

**I know it's been a while, but I was waiting for more reviews. **

**Oh, and in case you haven't noticed, there were some typos in Chapter 1, sorry about that, they're fixed now. =-D Anyway, here's Chapter 8 and please review! Xx**

Izzy left me in my room for a while, just sitting on the bed hugging one of the bed cushions to my chest. I didn't really know what feelings to have over being in this room. On one hand, I loved it, and the thought that my granddad had known me and loved me so well. But on the other hand, I missed him badly. Nobody could have had a _better_ granddad. He had been generous, kind, loving, and fun to be around. My mother, when drunk with her friends, had revealed to a seven-year-old me that he had been _furious_ over her becoming pregnant and ordered her to get a termination. She'd said that he didn't want a horrid, unwanted grandchild who was the spawn of the devil- my dad.

I had cried over that for weeks. My own granddad had wanted me_ dead_.

When over at his house once soon after, I had burst into tears. I'll never forget the expression that he had had on at that moment: worry, concern, and more worry. He'd sat me on his knee and asked me what was wrong. I, of course, told him what my evil mother had said, and he had nearly been in tears himself. He hugged me tight to him, then held my chin urgently in his hand and told me that he had _always_ loved me deeply- and that he was ashamed of what he'd said then.

Yes, I know what you're thinking: what an evil thing for her mother to say to her child. And for once, I agree with you.

Anyway, back to the now and present.

I probably looked like a right misery guts sitting on that bed, clutching a pillow to my chest. After wallowing in my sadness of granddad, I stood up, placing the pillow back on the bed.

Izzy was in the kitchen, making some lunch. She looked up at me as I came out of my room, smiled, then looked back down at the lunch she was making.

"Hey, I thought you might be hungry."

Looking at the sandwiches that she was making- big Italian baguettes, tomato, cheese, lettuce, onion, you name it- I realized how hungry I actually was.

"Proper Italian food," she laughed, slicing up some more tomato. "Go put the TV on and I'll bring these over."

Like an obedient little girl, I bounced happily over to the TV. I was ecstatic to be there, in the flat that our granddad had left us. No parents- except Izzy's, but they'd moved to Rome- and the beautiful Florence right outside our windows.

There was lots of Italian programmes on at this time of day, and although I didn't mind watching an Italian programme, I was jet-lagged and couldn't be bothered with the translating. We found a British channel, and guess what was on: _The Simpsons_. I moved country, but _The Simpsons_ was apparently as loved here as it is over in Britain and America. There were, of course, translations into Italian, but I didn't read them.

It was peaceful, and definitely the most calm I had been in hours. Watching TV with my cousin was obviously familiar- as we had spent a lot of time together when we were younger- and I think I needed something familiar at that time.

After watching a bunch of yellow people with strangely colored hair argue again and again, I noticed that it was getting dark outside when I looked out the window. My first night in Italy. The light was dimming in the sky, but Florence was so lit up- sparkling away like the Eiffel Tower. I could see dim outlines of people walking along the streets, some evidently walking home from work, and still some people selling their homemade cooking in the distance.

And a pigeon was pooping on a man's shoulder. How wonderful. Maybe the pigeons followed me here, they had always pooped on my neighbours.

"Fancy going out for a drink? There's a really good bar down the street," Izzy asked, looking out of the window with me.

"Oh my god, I can get served alcohol here, can't I?" I gasp, a huge smile on my face.

Don't get me wrong- I'm not one of those kids who practically lives to get drunk. I just love wine- thought I guess that's probably passed down from the Italian side of my family.

"Yeah, you can. Why? Do you want to get drunk?" Izzy laughs, though she already knows the answer to that- no.

"Of course I don't, but it would be cool to have wine in a _bar_," I giggle, sitting up, my back aching slightly because of my sitting down for such a long time.

Izzy opened the windows to see how warm it was outside. People in Britain think that Italy is boiling hot all the time, but it's really not that different from home- just a little bit more warmer and ever so slightly humid.

I was desperate to get out of my clothes, as they now had the evidence of jet lag on them with their wrinkles, so I quickly went into my room to change. My bags were still packed, but I decided to unpack them later, and just take something out to wear now.

I took out my short dark blue strap dress, which had little white hearts on it. It came down to mid-thigh and showed off my tanned skin: yes, I come from Britain, but I have a natural tan. I've always thought it was weird, but it's probably genetics from the Italian side of the family.

I throw on some dark blue wedge sandals that match my dress, and manage to lug a dark blue and I sort my hair in the mirror. It's- surprisingly- still it's usual slightly-wavy, the layers visible like sheets of silk. After putting on a bit of clear lip gloss that I had grabbed from my make-up bag, I was ready to go. That's a good thing about being naturally tanned- my skin is somehow always clear and soft, making my brown eyes look even larger.

Oh, and you don't burn in the sunlight.

"Ready to go yet?" Izzie calls, obviously sounding impatient.

"Yeah," I call back, slapping the lid of my lip gloss back onto the tube and pushing it into the make-up bag.

She was standing at the doorway, changed too- wearing a simple, short black dress that came down to around the same length of mine, emphasizing her deep tan.

She clapped me as I left the room, turning the knob of the door to shut it behind me. I gave her a 'wtf' look.

"You look stunning!" she explained, jumping up and down. Honestly, I worried about the girl sometimes. Once, when we were young, she had told me she'd seen a tiny spaceship- but it had turned out to be a squirrel.

Shows how sane she is.

Oh, and me too, cause I believed her.

She led the way to a gorgeous little cafe round the corner from the apartment, filled with lights and gorgeous bartenders. I knew that I was in a different country, but the atmosphere of the cafe was as calm as they are in Britain.

Everything was so beautiful. Lights were dangling from the ceiling in a modern fashion, but the place was made of wood, giving it an old Italian feel.

I drank wine. Can you believe it? _Wine_. In_ Italy_. Can it get any better than that? Well, it could for me. But I doubted that a guy entirely made of ice cream would come out in that moment...

Izzy was so used to drinking wine that she decided to go for some vodka. As for me, I hate vodka. Seriously, it smells and tastes like nail varnish remover. And after a bad experience with sipping from the nail varnish remover bottle when I was four- my mother had been too busy getting drunk with her friends to notice that her daughter could've killed herself-, I really didn't feel like drinking it again.

The atmosphere was charged, but in a nice, calming way. Bartenders and waitresses strode past us, delivering drinks and meals, and fluffing their little blue towels with their hands as they walked.

My first night in Italy, I thought excitedly. There were so many feelings rushing through me that I can't express them- joy, relief, happiness, excitement. The list could go on for hours.

The wine tasted fabulous- not too strong and not too full of flavor. Shelves and shelves of bottled drinks were stacked up against the wall of the bar, across from where myself and Izzy sipped our drinks on our stools.

"I hate to ruin the good mood," Izzy murmured reluctantly, "but I need to know. Your mum, what was your relationship like with her?"

My lips paused where they sat on the rim of my wine glass, in the process of taking another sip. I didn't want to talk about my mum, but like Izzy said- she_ did _need to know.

"I loved her because she was my mum. She loved to get drunk- I'm not sure if she was an alcoholic, but I knew she loved to drink. Sometimes she'd leave me alone in the house while she went out to get pissed with her friends. She had me when she was fourteen, did you know that?" I asked, and Izzy nodded her head, eyes fixed on me over her glass.

"Her friends were nice, I guess, but in that teenage way where they have no idea how to actually take care of the kid and just cooed at my cuteness. When she was drunk with her friends, she sometimes used to wake me up and sit me on her knee. My earliest memory was when I was three, and she'd sat on the couch with me in her lap, her friends all giggly and drunk on the seats around us. That was when she'd told me that I was a mistake, and she'd never wanted me. I didn't understand what she'd meant back then, but when I was eleven I figured it out."

"And that's when I went looking for my dad- big mistake. Mum hadn't known a thing about it: I looked for him behind her back. The only thing on my mind was to find the perfect father, so that I would at least have _one_ parent who loved me. And he did love me- at the start. You know the rest," I finish in a whisper, sipping my wine again.

There was a silence for a few seconds, and I looked back up at my cousin. She was looking at me intently, but yet sympathetically.

"And what about Granddad and Grandma?"

I smiled, placing my glass back on the bar.

"They raised me, Granddad especially. He bought food when my mum forgot, got me ready for school, took me to the park and cinema. With _you_ sometimes," I laugh fondly in remembrance of the time when we three went to see 'The Lion King'. We ended up having a popcorn fight after it, laughing and giggling. Granddad had even joined in.

Izzy laughed, placing her glass next to mine on the bar.

For the next hour or so, together we remembered all the special times with our granddad, and how lovely he had been.

That was the best hour I've had in a long time.

The gold doors swung open when we pushed them. I seemed to forget that we had pushed them, and stupidly said 'thank you' when we had walked through. Izzy just took on look at me and burst out laughing.

I giggled, then ran up the stairs. I had just reached our door when I bumped into somebody's back.

"Jesus, watch where you're going," I said angrily. I spoke in English, but even if the person was Italian, they could get the gist that I wasn't happy.

I heard Izzy stumble up the stairs after me, breathing in from her latest giggle. The back- obviously a guy's- in front of me turned around with a murderous look on his face, and I noticed who he was.

"Why, hello again," his smooth voice said.

**Next chapter up real soon!**


	9. Dark Hate

**Here you go, Chapter 9! I had **_**so**_** much fun writing this one. Please continue to review! Xx**

_What the __**fuck**__? __**This**__ arrogant ass again? Had he followed me here? Oh my god, he's probably a stalker- I have my own stalker and I've only been in this country for four __**fucking**__ hours!_

"What are _you_ doing here?" I growled, crossing my arms and glaring furiously. I thought I was _rid _of this guy, but now here he was, practically _lounging_ with sunglasses covering his dark eyes. Even his _hair_ looked arrogant. I barely registered that there was someone standing behind him.

"Is that a way of greeting?" his silky voice washed over me, but I could hear a cool edge to it.

A long fingered pale hand reached up to his face, and in a swift motion he took off his sunglasses. I had to repress a surprising shiver as I remembered how dark and cold his eyes really were. The corners of his mouth had picked up, but when I narrowed my eyes and glared at his, they held humor and a cold feeling.

It didn't stop me from being pissed at him.

"Who's this?" I heard Izzy ask confusedly. Her sandals softly thumped against the floor as she walked closer and up behind me.

"This is the creepy guy I was telling you about," I answered, still not removing my narrowed eyes from Damon's.

His smile picked up, but his dark eyes became even colder and I could feel a certain chill in the air.

Someone stepped around behind the arrogant ass, and I finally looked at him. His green eyes were shocking, like two miniature forests in the summer on his face. He's slightly taller than Damon, with the same colour of hair except curly. Even if I hadn't seen him on the plane here, I could tell that he's Damon's brother.

A confused and slightly worried- what was that about?- frown was on his face, glancing between me and Damon, who was still staring at me.

"Hello," his brother said to me, trying to be polite through the angry and cold atmosphere.

"Hi," I say back, _trying_ to be polite back- Damon may be a creepy ass, but his brother might not be. See, I _do_ have manners.

"We've just moved in to the apartment upstairs, I'm Stefan," his brother said, extending a hand. I barely had time to digest that information before he'd taken mine- which I had started to raise- and shaken it.

"Upstairs?" I choke out, glancing back at Damon in horror. How on earth can I cope with life when the creepy bastard was living upstairs?

I thought the brother- Stefan- could tell that I was pissed with Damon, and thankfully he didn't look offended. I didn't know why I was thankful for that- he could've been a bastard too. Maybe it was his green eyes and his stunning non-arrogant looks that had me trying to be a teeny bit nice. If anything, Stefan looked a bit pissed with Damon himself, darting an annoyed glance at him- but mainly he concentrated on myself and Izzy, perhaps to establish what feathers Damon had ruffled.

He hadn't ruffled my feathers one bit- no, no. He had _ripped_ them off. And where does that expression come from anyway? Feathers. I hate feathers.

Got a bit off the mark there. See, this is what I seem to do when I'm in shock: think of random and ridiculous things.

"This is Ruby and I'm Isabella, just call me Izzy," she said in Italian, smiling at Stefan, for the both of us I guess. I was too busy glaring furiously at Damon's cold eyes.

"You're looking delectable tonight," he smirked, eyes dropping to look me up and down. I somehow detect a hidden meaning to his words, and I noticed that Stefan seemed to too, as I saw him shoot Damon a disgusted glare. He either didn't notice or chose to ignore it, as his amused eyes remained on me.

My eyes, which had started to just stare at him, narrowed again.

"Sorry, but we'd best be going inside. Ruby's had a long flight and hasn't even slept some of it off yet," Izzy interrupted, even managing to sound sorry. She could probably sense my anger at Damon, even though I hadn't given her the full details yet of what he did on the plane: I had only told her that there was a creepy guy sitting next to me who thought he was God's gift to women.

"Of course. It was nice to meet you," Stefan nodded, giving a small smile. I could tell by his expression that he was assessing everything about the situation in his head. There were dark circles underneath his eyes, even with the sleep he got on the plane his face looked... haunted somehow. But he was making an effort.

I managed a small smile for him, but this was cut short when I noticed that Damon smirk had grown larger. He had seemed cold about my calling him a creepy guy in front of people, but now he just looked amused- as if he was planning something in his head.

"Eeurgh," I huffed, getting so annoyed with him. My first night here was ruined because of this smirking asshole. He wasn't even that hot... okay, that's a lie. But seriously, I prefer men with a better personality than a better backside.

I swiftly opened the door to Izzy and I's apartment, stomping in angrily without a second glance. When I heard Damon chuckle behind me coolly, I fought the urge to slam the door. But that would leave Izzy out there like a little squirrel in a cage of tigers. Well, ti_ger_.

I angrily walked up the little varnished wooden steps to the black marble table of the kitchen. After a moment of saying goodbye to the brothers- although I mainly think it was _Stefan_ she was saying it to- she came into the room, smirking at me slightly as if to say 'well, _that_ was fun: _not_', while closing the door with one hand.

"So..." she started, biting her lip and obviously trying not to laugh at my anger. "The last time I saw you _that _angry was when I told you Santa Claus wasn't real when we were seven."

After that I seemed to blow up like a Volcano. Stand well back whenever I do that.

"_He_ is the most _infuriating_ person I've ever met in my _life_!" I practically roar, hands in the air. "I mean, did you see how arrogant that _bastard_ was? He was really creepy on the plane, and now he's here, upstairs in fact! Can you believe it? _First _night in Italy, and _this _is what happens," I crossed my arms over the top of the black marble counter and placed my head in them.

Izzy laughed softly before coming over to me, and placing a kiss on my the back of my head.

"Oh honey, you _do_ have bad luck," she giggled.

For some reason, even though I was still furious with seeing that Damon guy again, somehow I laughed right then. Maybe it was because of Izzy being... well, Izzy, and pointing out the obvious. Or maybe because my life had gotten so shit, then normal, then happy, then back to kinda shit again, that it had gotten to the point where it was _amusing_.

That night, as I laid in the bed of the room that my precious granddad has specifically styled for me, I thought about Damon. I thought of his arrogant grin, cold black eyes, black hair, and annoying attitude. Was it even possible for someone to be _that_ annoying?- I thought. My eyes turned to the window, where a soft breeze was coming through the slightly opened window, making the soft curtains tousle.

I hoped to _God_ that I wouldn't have to see his face tomorrow. One mere _sight_ of those arrogant eyes and I'd hit him with a rolling pin.

I'd just have to buy one first.


	10. Sharing the Love

**I know it's been a while, and I'm sorry, but here you go. **

**Let's see if we can get over fifteen reviews this time! Xx**

The next morning, I turned over in my bed, slowly waking up. My bed was so cosy and warm that I didn't want to get up.

I opened my eyes, staring at the ceiling. Izzy was in the kitchen, her pottering around could be heard from Australia. Way to wake me up, Iz. She worked at the cafe down the road, next to where we had our drinks last night. With all our inheritance, it was obvious that neither of us needed to work, but it's something to do, I guessed.

Before we ran into_ him_.

Anger washed through me. I turned over onto my face and groaned angrily as I clasped the pillow to me. Stupid handsome idiot. Who _earth_ did he think he _was? _He had a poker the size of Long Island in his stupid ass. I hated him so much. No, in fact, I _loathed_ him.

I was too angry to stay still. See, he's not even here and he'd already ruined my day- I wanted to stay in my cosy bed and now I'm too angry to lie down. Bastard.

I angrily throw the covers off of me. My first morning in Italy, and I'm pissed off. Fantastic.

But at least I could walk about wearing my pyjamas- a vest top and pink short shorts. Back home I couldn't do that.

Izzy was gulping down the rest of her coffee when I entered the kitchen, shutting my bedroom door behind me. Her eyes were outlined with brown eyeliner, emphasizing her tan and figure. She placed her red mug back down on the black marble counter and smiled at me hurriedly.

"Hey, I'm late for work."

"Oh, that's why it sounds like a tornado hit in here," I mused, smiling at her then looking back down as I filled the kettle to make some tea.

"Sorry," she laughed, walking over to the posh sofas to pick up her keys. "Right, I'll be home at two. What are you going to do with yourself today?" She placed her keys in her handbag, looking back up at me while swinging it over her shoulder. Her delicately manicured hands smoothed down her white blouse and black skirt.

"Oh, I dunno. Maybe I'll look for a job or something," I shrugged, pouring some cereal into a bowl.

"Well, if you get bored then come see me on my lunch break- I get off at twelve," she kissed my cheek before making her way to the door.

"And don't cause any trouble with the guys upstairs!" she threw over her shoulder.

"_M_e cause any trouble? That guy up there is an arrogant backside who-" I protested, hands in the air, but Izzy only laughed and shut the door behind her.

I sighed, putting a spoonful of my cereal into my mouth.

Instead of looking for a job straight away, I lounged on the sofa watching Friends. Eventually I got bored with even that and got dressed, throwing on my white short dress and brushed my hair. Might as well look nice when I've got nothing to do all day... I guessed I would have to go see Izzy on her lunch break at this rate.

Just as I was finishing putting some clear lip gloss on, there was a knock at the door. Bare-foot, I wandered over to it, expecting Izzy to have forgotten something. I grasped the handle of the white door and turned it, shocked at who it was.

Damon's brother, Stefan.

"Good morning," he said politely, smiling. God, he's good-looking too. It must run in the family.

"Hi?" I said, smiling but slightly confused.

"I just wanted to apologize for my brother," he said.

"Oh. That's okay, it's not your fault he's an... well, an ass," I couldn't find a polite alternative. No, seriously, I couldn't.

Surprisingly, Stefan laughed.

"Yes, he's not the... most likeable person in the world. You're from Britain?"

"Yeah, England," I smiled. I couldn't help but smile at him- he seemed nice. Or at least nicer than Damon.

"If you don't mind me asking, how did you meet my brother?" he inquired, tilting his head and looking interested in my answer. He looked so charming, as if he should be on a Roman coin. Hmmm... who's hotter, Damon or Stefan? Stefan. Damon's an ass.

"Oh, on the plane here. He was very... annoying," I cringed.

"But wasn't I there?" he frowned confusedly.

"You were asleep?"

"Oh, that's right, I was. Well, did my brother... hurt you in any way?"

I blinked, stunned.

"No. Why? Does he usually hurt girls? Wouldn't entirely surprise me..."

"Ugh, no, he doesn't, I was just wondering."

Funny thing to wonder about...

Instead of asking, I just frowned and smiled at the same time.

'"Sorry, do you want to come in?" I realized that it was rude to keep him standing on the doorstep, and stepped back to open the door a little with my right arm.

"No thank you, I'd best be going. If Damon causes any-"

"Having a nice conversation, little brother?" a silky, cold voice cut in.

My first thought was an angry 'fuck, no!' as I looked over Stefan's shoulder and at the nearly emerged asshole coming up the stairs. Stefan turned round too, and I could see that he was at a loss for words.

Damon's eyes were cool as ice and narrowed into slits. Yes, he looked sexy like that, but I didn't give a damn if he was Brad Pitt or not- he was an ass. I narrowed my eyes at him. His gaze kept switching between Stefan and I. He looked rather scary to be honest, but I didn't particularly care- I was just mad.

Stupid Italian boy.

When Stefan spotted the girl on the step below Damon, a look of disapproving anger appeared on his face. I would've frowned confusedly if I weren't so mad at him.

A slow smirk appeared on Damon's face as his narrowed eyes remained on me, then he climbed the rest of the steps. At first I thought he was trying to come into my flat, and got ready to slap him, but then he passed by us. He didn't remove his eyes from us until he walked up the steps towards his flat. The unknown bleach blonde scowled at me as she slinkily moved after him, but her cold effect lessened when she tripped on the bottom step. I smiled happily at her as she glared her way up the steps.

Jeez, sorry for _breathing_...

Once they were gone and we heard the slam of the upstairs door, I looked at Stefan. He looked back at me, eyes wide and bewildered like an owl.

What just happened seemed so absurd, that I had to fight a laugh, looking down at the ground. I knew that if I looked at Stefan's cute bewildered eyes any longer I would burst out laughing- laughter that Damon would hear, and I didn't want to see him annoying face again.

Luckily, Stefan seemed to be suffering from the same problem. His lips, held in a smile, kept twitching as if he wanted to laugh too.

"I'd best be going," he said. After saying our goodbyes, he strode his way down the stairs.

Yes, _strode_.

I sighed as I closed the door behind me, wondering what on earth to do for the rest of my day. I had released a lot of my anger out in my glare fight with Damon, and felt slightly better because of it. Looking at my watch, it was ten minutes to twelve. _I might as well go and see Izzy-_ I thought to myself.

I got my handbag ready with my phone, keys- which Izzy had left in the kitchen table- and some money.

As my right hand closed the door behind me, I heard a scream from upstairs. Obviously a girl's.

"Oh, for fuck's sake, he doesn't waste any time does he," I murmured angrily, hearing the click of my door shutting. I looked up the steps to Damon's flat, shaking my head as I descended down the stairs.

How was I meant to know that the scream was caused by something else entirely?

.


	11. Baguette Banter

**I updated really soon for you guys, I think that deserves loads of reviews? Pretty please? Enjoy! =-) Xx**

If you've ever been to Italy, you'll understand what it's like to walk in the fresh air, flowers hanging in baskets everywhere.

It was absolutely gorgeous- breathtakingly beautiful.

The air is fresh and warm as I walked out into it. The sunshine beat down onto my hair through clear blue sky, and I threw my sunglasses on. My hair blew softly around my face, and I felt like a proper Italian as I walked down the street. Glamorous people walked along the other side of the street, laughing and chatting to each other with their designer handbags swinging.

I felt so at peace here. It felt warm, but not scalding hot, which suited me just fine. From what Izzy had told me, the cafe where she worked was round the corner from the bar on a tiny street. I couldn't wait to get there, mostly due to my anger against Damon. What an ass. His head is too far up his own ass that he can't tell his right from left. Stupid idiot.

Amazingly, when I got there, the cafe wasn't absolutely packed, as I had expected. There were a few individual adults sitting sipping their coffee at tables, reading newspapers, but that was it. Creamy wallpaper decorated the inside of the small cafe, baskets and vases of flowers dotted all around. I spotted Izzy's head bent over a table opposite her side of the counter.

Smiling, I walked over to the cash desk, leaning over onto it.

"Hooooonney?" I drawled, smiling at her sweetly when she looked up.

Izzy laughed. Her fingers held slices of tomato, cheese, and lettuce.

"Hey, sweetheart, you decided to come down then?"

"I did indeedy," I mused, crossing my arms on the counter. "But not before a confrontation with the _lemon_ upstairs."

Izzy sighed disapprovingly. She placed one hand on her hip and glared amusedly at me. "What did I tell you this morning? _Don't cause any trouble with the guy upstairs."_

"I know, I know, and it wasn't my fault. Literally, wasn't. The other guy, Stefan, came down to apologize, but then the poker ass guy came up the stairs. We sort of had an unspoken glaring contest," I explained, trying to justify myself.

Izzy just sighed at me, raising her eyebrows in disbelief.

"_He_ started it," I murmured. "So are you ready to go out for lunch?"

"Yeah, just a sec, I'm making my sandwich," she threw a piece of ham onto a baguette. "Oh, hold on, I want you to meet someone- _Leo!_"

A hot boy- yes, I'm just gonna be direct with this- around my age ppeared from around a corner, presumably the kitchen. He had brown wavy hair, big brown eyes, and a strong looking physique.

The classic hot Italian.

I smiled at him.

"Leo, this is my cousin, Ruby," Izzy said, not looking at either of us. Instead she kept her eyes on the knife she was using to spread some butter.

"Hi," I said, perking up a little bit. My sour mood since being confronted with Damon was starting to wear off at the pretty sight of this hot Italian guy.

"Hi," he said smoothly, shooting me a gleaming white smile. In his hands he ran a towel through his fingers. Although Leo had an apron on- yes, he still managed to look hot when in an apron- he looked rather casual for work in a white shirt and black jeans.

"You're British?" he asked, leaning one hand on the counter to support his weight. _God, he's hot._

"Yeah," I smiled back.

He didn't say anything else, but it was a comfortable silence until Izzy announced that she was ready to go, throwing a big baguette into a plastic bag.

I said goodbye to Leo, giving him a little wave and smile.

"Where do you want to go eat?" I asked when we were outside, then blinked when I realized that, the potato that I am, I forgot to bring my own lunch. "I didn't bring anything, I forgot."

"I knew you would forget, so I cut the baguette in half so you could have some. I would have never finished this monster of a thing by myself anyway," she held up the massive sandwich, smiling at me.

I scowled with my lips curving into a small smile.

"Why do you know me so well..."

She giggled, then grabbed my hand and strode through the street, stopping at a bench.

"I normally eat lunch with Leo, but his Uncle is on a business trip and couldn't cover his shift," Izzy said, opening the big bag and throwing a sliced tomato into her mouth.

"Does Leo's Uncle own the place?" I picked up my half of the baguette.

"Yeah. He's hot isn't he?" Izzy grinned at me knowingly while taking a large bite of baguette.

"Who, Leo's Uncle?" I said, aghast.

"No, you banana, Leo!" Izzy laughed.

"_Oh_. Yeah, he's not bad," I nudged her. "Thinking of seeing_ his _special baguette, are you?"

"_Ruby!_ I had not idea you've gotten so _suggestive _and dirty!" she giggled, blushing slightly.

"Was that dirty? I thought it was rather mild," I laughed, biting my baguette innocently.

"_Honestly._ You're still a virgin aren't you?"

I groaned.

"Do we really have to talk about this while we're eating?"  
"I'm only asking..." she said innocently.

"And you think _I'm _a dirty girl. You want to talk about me banging someone while I'm eating!" I giggled.

"It must run in the family, although you have a more advanced case. What else was I meant to ask you... oh yeah, do you fancy that Damon guy from upstairs?"

I snorted, a tomato accidently falling to the ground.

"How can you even _ask _that? He's an arrogant backside who picks up whores, does mind tricks, and has a poker up his ass," I state, shocked.

"He's a _hot_ arrogant backside. With a mighty fine _actual_ backside. His brother is hot too."

"Well, you can eye them up, but I'll always hate Damon. It's such a pity that Stefan was born his brother, how on earth can they be related..."

"They look alike, didn't you notice?"

"I was too busy glaring at Damon to notice, so no. Even thinking about him now makes me turn into a sour mood. Oh, don't tell me _you _fancy him," I looked at her with a disgusted expression.

"No, I don't fancy him, I just think that even when he's a creep, he still manages to look hot," Izzy protested, a tomato sticking out of her mouth.

"Right, whatever. Did granddad leave anything in the apartment for us?" the sudden thought of old photos occurred to me.

"Yeah, a box of our baby photos and some of his stuff," Izzy said sadly. "Grandma was crying so much when he died, even if they _were_ divorced."

"So was mine," I sighed in remembrance. My gran had cried, yes, but I cried more. To be honest, I think she had been more concerned with cashing in on the life insurance than about her deceased husband.

There was silence for a few minutes as we remembered our grieving families.

"Wait, what did you mean about Damon 'picking up whores'?" Izzy suddenly asked.

"Oh, when I was talking to Stefan, he had been coming up the stairs with a whore and we had that glaring contest I told you about earlier. I'm not sure she was an_ actual_ whore, but she was stupid enough," I told her, cringing in my hate for Damon. "Then when I left to see you, I heard her scream. He was obviously getting lucky- or not, at the state of that girl." I shrugged.

"They sound good together. He's a man-whore, and she's a... regular whore."

We both laughed. Once we fell into a comfortable silence, I thought about that scream with a frown on my face. Looking back, it didn't exactly sound like a particularly pleasured one...


	12. Noisy Habitants and a Few Germs

**Yeah, I know it's been a while too long. But I had no way to upload this- I was in Venice with no Internet connection! I typed this up while I was there, so that you didn't have to wait any longer than you had to. Here you go, and please review more! =-) Xx**

Over the next few weeks, I didn't see that much of Damon. Eventually, I stop thinking about him. Now before you go all romantic, no, I was not thinking about him in that way. Mainly I was thinking about stapling things to his head. Hammers were also one of my favorite weapons to use on him in my daydreams.

Even though I didn't physically see him, he still annoyed the poo out of me. While myself and Izzy were watching TV some nights, or even some mornings, we could hear the rhythmical_ thump, thump, thump,_ of a bed. Then it would get faster, then stop. Honestly, the guy could go on for hours. He did, sometimes. He may be a jackass, but he was apparently good in bed.

Either that or it was Stefan. But somehow I knew that it was Damon.

It wasn't just the thumping that drove us crazy- no, not in lust, you dirty people. There were the _vocal noises_. Girl noises mostly- moaning, heavy breathing, sometimes screeching. I say sometimes because it was a_ different girl every night_. Stupid asshole. I hope he gets HIV.

He knew he was being as loud as a foghorn. One time, when I had been putting out the rubbish in it's black bin bag, one of his girls came down the steps with him in tow. She had looked really tired and white, with a scarf tightly covering her neck. Her make-up was splattered all over her face, but you could tell she was pretty.

She had walked past, looking slightly embarrassed, as I'd stood frozen with my eyebrows raised at her. Damon had walked behind her, but not with her. He stopped following her down when he reached the step closest to me. He'd coolly waved at her as she went out the front door, but looked at me. He raised his arrogant eyebrows at me, smirking innocently, but I could see the amusement in his expression as he made his way back up the stairs. Needless to say, the next few nights he had been deliberately loud.

I was sure that Stefan wasn't getting much sleep. He looked really tired. One day I asked him if he wanted to stay in our spare room to get some sleep, but he had politely declined and said it wasn't because of the noise. That had been strange- the noise was extremely loud, especially if you were only in the next room.

After a while, Izzy and I barely noticed the noise. She found it difficult to get to sleep with it going on the first week, but got used to it. I was used to all sorts, growing up in my home. I was used to hearing loud sex noises- from my mother before my dad came back, and also _when_ my dad came back.

On to more delightful things, Leo was really sweet. I'm not sure if he fancies Izzy, but he sure does care for her. He's been living in Florence since he was three, when he moved there from France. I was surprised by that- he just seemed so... Italian, but in fact he was French by birth. Somehow it made him even more hot. A mix between the two, is exceptionally hot.

And I'm English. Which isn't the most interesting place to be born. Oh well.

Two weeks after I moved in, and I was cleaning up the coffee table when there was a knock at the door. Izzy was out at work, and I was just about ready to go and see her. My white, short day dress was slightly crumpled, and I smoothed it down while throwing the scourer back onto the kitchen table and walking to the door.

I wasn't expecting it to be Damon, but I didn't let that on. He was just standing there waiting coolly, but when he saw it was me who answered, his face lit up in a smirk.

"Looking beautiful again, I see?" he drawled. Did he think he looked seductive or something? Okay, I'll admit, he did look seductive, but I wasn't falling for it. I've dealt with my fair share of bastards in my life. I can deal with this one.

I raised my eyebrows, not impressed and looking him right in his dark eyes.

"What do you want?"

"That's not the right way to greet someone who knocks at your door," he scolded, smirk staying put. Arrogant toothbrush. "Might I come in?"

"I don't invite strangers into my flat. And you're dodging the question, what do you want?" I was not falling for it. Or him.

Something flashed in his eyes, something like fury and challenge, then he smiled coolly again.

"Quite right. I came round to apologize; I feel as if we... what is the phrase people use nowadays, got off on the wrong foot?" he laughed beautifully. Still not falling for it one bit. Many girls would have fallen over at his feet right then I'd bet, but I didn't feel a glimmer.

"I bet you do that with a lot of people," I smiled, feeling the challenging look in my eyes.

"As a matter of fact- no. It must just be you," he laughed again, but there was no humor in it. More anger contained in his eyes when it passed. I'd obviously pissed him off.

I shrugged, uninterested, then stared him in the eyes again.

This guy really was a creep. Was he some sort of magician? Stefan and Damon were both strange people. They somehow... looked different. I just noticed in that moment.

We tried to stare each other down for the next minute or two. His eyes held anger and coldness, and I know mine did too.

"So do you accept my apology and we can start again?" he suddenly asked, smiling again, whether to himself or me, I didn't know. It seemed as if he automatically knew that I would accept, and that he was too impossible to resist or something.

"I'll think about it," my eyes narrowed, smiling at him. That was not what he expected.

His eyes grew cold and angry. For a second, I was scared that he might take a swing at me or something. He'd get a real shock if he did that- I'd punch him back. After getting used to the look in his eyes, mine stared into his in return.

Eventually, in a huff, he broke the spell. My eyes blinked, somehow shocked. Then he nodded his head curtly in goodbye and flounced off down the stairs.

How on earth can he and Stefan be related?- I thought as I walked dazedly back into my flat and shut the door.


	13. A Drunken Stupor

**I'm terribly sorry for the wait, and I would like to mention how much I love Fanfiction. Life has been tough to me lately, which is why I haven't been updating. And now, this summer, I'm getting back on the right track and want to return to this part of my life that I love so much. :) Thank you for being patient.**

**And here's the next chapter. :D Next one coming in about a week and a bit! :) Xx**

Boredom was not the word.

I had been here for almost a month, not having anything to do but listen to that cold creep Damon mate with girls, and my distress was finally hitting it's peak. I didn't need to work, but I somehow wanted to - Granddad's inheritance was enough to keep me balanced for life. I couldn't apply for something educational, as I was already qualified with everything I could do well in and needed, and now it was time to do something with it. I used to have a part-time job working in Waterstones, a bookshop chain courtesy of HMV, back in the UK, and I never thought I'd miss having to work. But I did.

Finally, when I got so terribly bored out of my mind that I started to count how many birds were flying in the sky, I decided that enough was enough. I put on a little navy number, threw my keys and phone in its pocket, and headed out part-time job-hunting.

At first, people weren't interested. A little English girl living in Italy wasn't exactly what employers were looking for. But when they found that I could speak fluent Italian (and made them blush when I harshly made them understand that I could hear them calling me 'useless' and 'pathetics'), they were at least willing to tell me if anything came up.

The pricks. I bet they don't know how to deal with a rowdy neighbour and his younger brother who, quite frankly, was prone to looking like someone had shot his foot and he was pretending not to notice. I had no idea what was up with those two, but whatever it was... it made them weird. Not that I can talk about weird, considering I am the weirdest and most determined girl you'll ever find, but this was _beyond_ weird.

I finally gave up the search for a job and, with a face like an annoyed cat, I dragged my exhausted self into Izzy's cafe and plonked my butt onto a stool behind the counter.

Leo came out and his face lit up in what I can only describe as a 'beam' when he saw me sitting there. I smiled at him sweetly slightly, resting my elbows on the counter and my forearms pressing against the cool, granite counter.

"Ah, Ruby. How are you?"  
"Good, how are you?" I said politely. I _must_ have been tired – I'm hardly a polite person.

"Fantastic. What have you been up to all day?"

I wanted to say 'go away, you fool', but decided that would be just a bit too rude for someone nice who I don't know enough about yet. So, instead I told him.

"A job?" he blinked in surprised. When his eyes opened wide like that, it made his hair and smooth, light tan look even more darker. Izzy, no wonder you work here with this hunk of beef hanging around you... "Why do you want to search so far? We have part-time jobs here."

I brightened instantly, raising myself of the counter into a slightly more dignified pose and leaned forward a little, looking at him in disbelief and excitement.

"Seriously?"

"Absolutely." He winked at me and smiled. Ooooft, I could eat you for breakfast...

"Ruuuuuuby, what are you doing here?" Izzy came out of the kitchen next door with a tea-cloth in her hand and striking an awful English accent at me. Oh, Christ, she's been on the coffee.

"Your wonderful cousin her was just asking about a job," Leo informed her, leaning his waist against the counter with his apron on. From this angle, his crossed arms made him look ever the more buff. Be still, Izzy's beating heart.

Izzy straightened, smirking and coming towards us.

"Ooooooooh, how fun. Little Ruby's getting a job," she cooed.

"Shut up, you imbecile. If I am getting a job, I can't start 'till the day after tomorrow, as tonight, my dear, I am getting you good and _drunk_," I swung on my stool and gave her a beaming smile. That was before I screeched when an unnoticed bin caused me to stop unexpectedly. Ever the dignified, Ruby.

Izzy dramatically sighed.

"Fair enough. I shall just go back to my kitchen and scrub all alone like Sleeping Beauty."

I frowned, looking at her strangely.

"You mean Cinderella?"

"That's what I said, sweetheart. Toodles!"

She swung herself back round the kitchen.

HOW AWKWARD.

"Well, that was nice," I said to break the tension. "So can I start the day after tomorrow?"

Leo winked at me, smirking a boy-got-caught smile.

"On one condition – I get to come to this drink-fest you two are having tonight."

Leo drunk... hmm, now that _is_ a thought. Would he take his shirt off and dance around like a gay ballerina? Oh, I just found my mission for tonight. Super-duper.

"Deal," I challenged, shaking his outstretched hand and standing up feeling extremely smiley.

I practically waltzed out of there.

Well... when I say 'practically', I mean literally. I waltzed pretty successfully until I walked straight into the glass door thinking it was already open. Not my most glorious moment. Especially when the hot-to-trot Leo was laughing his head off. Jerk. I could have brain damage.

**[3]**

Getting Leo drunk wasn't easy, but we managed it.

First, came the 'oh, no, I have work tomorrow' excuses, then he started to scold us and behave like our punishing father, and then, _finally_, was the submission. As if we were a clergy who would behead him if he did not drive himself to a drunken stupor. And what a _hot _drunken stupor that was...

I've never seen a guy that drunk before. While I was giggling away at some sort of Elmo cup – which, to the sober-me, would have been extremely funny anyway, but to a drunk-me, it was hilarious – he had strolled out of the bathroom with one of my dresses on. He strolled because he'd completely forgotten he'd had it on – it was one of those tube dresses which thankfully wouldn't get too stretched by his six-pack – and his drunken comments to me after_ that_ hilarity, most involving an imaginary penguin friend he had when he was little, made that night a complete success. He was such a cute drunk. He started grabbing me in his huge arms and declaring that he loved me, then cuddled me to death. I started seeing him in a different way – not as Izzy's boss, but as the weird, sexy drunk boy who, when pissed, declares love to all his friends.

I don't remember much else but that it was an absolutely _hilarious_ night. One that I needed to get me properly settled in here.

The next morning, I opened my eyes to find myself sleeping on the sitting room sofa with Leo's arms wrapped right around me and his nose in my hair. What a cute little friend he is.

Still fully-dressed in the drunken shenanigan clothes – a mad combination of Leo's shirt , Izzy's pink neon socks with sheep on them, and my own thin sweatpants – I sat up, neck aching.

Izzy was sprawled on the floor, face down, with a bucket on the back of her head. While struggling not to burst out laughing and wake them up, I disentangled myself from Leo and started to make coffee.


End file.
